Fair-Weather'd Days

[VarWenn]

The ‘girlfriend’ comment that had come out of beefy, mustachioed human running the game made Varin’s tail curl shyly and his cheeks redden. Arie chirped in a sultry way, teasing him as she always did. He might have gone off on a flustered tizzy about how, no, they were merely traveling companions of the “somewhat close” variety. But, the great THWACK of Aynur’s swing distracted them all.

Vweeee-ooooo. The whistle rose and fell.

“Well,” Varin told her, twiddling his fingers together, “you, ahh, made it to nearly a fourth of the way to the top. I mean, that is, I believe that is a decent enough amount of the pole, but-”

“No prizes for you,” the strength man said, chuckling back at the little cloth animals lining the shelves behind him. There was an immense selection in various colors and sizes. All were soft. All were tantalizing. Varin, against his better nature, almost wanted one…

“Ohh.” Aynur sagged in disappointment. The hammer fell from her arms, which had been shaking from trying to hold onto its great weight.

Coin changed hands. Strength man grinned and turned to take a good, hard look at Varin. The drakari knew there wasn’t much to look at. He was short, slightly on the stocky side (by human standards), and about as intimidating as a swooning daisy. An easy mark, to the outsider’s eye. “Say, you want to give it a go for your girl?” the strength man whispered to him. “She seems real sad there.”

Still red about the snout, Varin nodded. “Why not?”

Gently moving Aynur aside, he picked up the hammer that she had been struggling with not a moment before. His mouth curled in disgust as he wiped clean the sticky handle. Varin tested its weight with a few quick practice swings. It didn’t feel all that heavy to him; humankind had fairly low standards for strength, he supposed.

Making sure that none were in his way, Varin grounded his stance, took aim and swung.

THWANK! The rubber-coated mallet head made contact with the plate, and splintered off of its handle. DING! the bell rang, loud and clear. CRACK! A large split appeared in the hull of the bell, splitting it near in half. VWOOOO-ooooo. The whistle slid downward. A moment of stunned silence ensued.

“Oh oh, oh no,” Varin sputtered, dropping the hammer -- rather, the handle. “My apologies, I did not mean t-”

“It’s fine,” the strength man managed to croak out, staring stunned up at the cracked bell. “I can- I can still run the game. Gonna be a fine tale to tell my son.” He waved vaguely to the stuffed animals. “Go… go get your lady a prize.”